Diary Of A Pastor's Son

Episode 1 �

Written by: Frank The Writer

Do Not Copy or Repost

__________

Fair Warning: This story is rated 18+ and may not be suitable for readers below 18+

Dear Diary,
It's me again. It’s time to tell my story and what being a son of a pastor meant to me. Well, I’m not the regular kind of a pastor's son you are used to. I guess I’m different and my story would tell more about my life some years ago in South West, Nigeria.
Sit back. Relax and with your fingers crossed as I take you down the memories of my life experience.

***
In a family of four siblings, I was the only son of my parents. The rest three followed after I was born. It was such a good treat from my parents being the only boy in the house. I was cherished by my father, a pastor. I wouldn’t say he cherished me more than my sisters but I knew he had a special place for me in his heart. My father wanted to have more boys after I was birthed but it wasn’t God’s plan as he would always say. He was the kind of person who believed every single thing was ordered by God.

Oh! I should introduce myself. Forgive my manners. My name is Dickson Femi. A typical Yoruba boy. Like I said earlier, I’m the only son and also the eldest in a family of four. Shola, Aramide, and Bidemi were my sisters. They were 15, 13, and 10 years respectively. Then, I was 17 and I was done with Secondary School.

This family of four used to be lively and exciting not until we reduced drastically. How? You may ask. Well, one of my aunties who lived in Ibadan was delivered of a baby girl, and it was her first child. She needed someone to assist her with a few house chores and run errands too. So that was how my mom gave out Aramide to stay with my aunty. Bidemi was the last born and her troubles in the neighborhood were getting out of hand, so my father changed her school from day to boarding.
So it was just Shola and I in the house.

Sola was in Ss1. My mother’s replica. She was not thin nor was she fat, but I knew she had always wanted to add flesh by all means. Nobody took after my mom like Shola. The only difference was her height. At 15 she was already taller than my mom and me. My mother was a full-time businesswoman. Always out of the house, hustling for money. She leaves in the morning and when next you’d see her would be evening. My father was also like that, but he could come back home anytime. And most of the time, he comes back to prepare for the church; mostly-weekly services
.
I wouldn’t say my parents were rich but we were doing pretty well. All thanks to my father’s multiple sources of income. Aside from being a pastor in one Pentecostal church, well, my father was many things. So we lived comfortably in a three-bedroom flat in Ondo State.

Shola and I were used to arguing about stuff like brothers and sisters and we were also used to confiding in each other and asking for advice. Shola and I were like twins, doing the house chores together. Since I was always at home while she went to school, I assisted in most house chores. Sometimes, Shola leaves for school without doing anything while I woke up to sweep, wash the dishes, and do other stuff like that. That was the kind of brother I was to her.

Well, unlike everyone in the house, I was less of a religious person. I wasn’t wayward but I hated going to church and behaving like a Saint and all those crap. In my father's church, they always spent hours preaching the same thing every day. “Repent, Christ is coming soon. Give your life to Christ” and all those long talks. I’m sure you know the rest. Yes, you do. I was literally tired of hearing these preaching every damn time.

Sometimes I faked being sick just to miss service on Sunday but my father would always insist that I still go because he always assured me of getting healing from church, and whenever I return acting strong, he would think I was healed because I followed him to church but little did he know I was never sick.

One of the hardest parts of being a pastor's son is the way everybody sees and treats you. Growing up, you’re a normal kid until everybody finds out that your father is a pastor and then everything changes. People made me look like a perfect boy but little did they know that I was different from my dad. I was simply naughty, and silly. You can’t even predict what my next action would be.
I think the notion that pastors' children need to be perfect and spotless is unhealthy and can have many negative effects on us. So many weighty expectations are placed on us and it’s quite annoying.

Everything was going fine in the house until my father returned from work one day with a teenage girl, Agatha. She was an orphan and a member of my father's church. According to my father, it was agreed in the church meeting that my father accommodates her while the church decides on what to start for her and how to raise the money too. And that was how Agatha got to stay with us, doing most of the house chores like she was a house help. Judging by her look, I’d say she was probably nineteen or twenty years old. Agatha was from Eket in Akwa Ibom state.

***

When everyone must have gone out, it was always Agatha and me alone in the house. She loved watching TV after doing house chores. I could stay indoors as long as my phone was fully charged. I was always with my system doing one or two things for my personal development.

So one day, I got bored in the room and decided to ease myself. After using the toilet, I came out and noticed Agatha was seeing a movie in the living. She sat relaxed on the couch in one of her casual wear. I felt like joining her in the living room to cool off a little, but a part of me was like I should get back to my room. I obliged to the voice not until she screamed out of excitement. That really got my attention that I suddenly became interested in seeing what she was watching.

Agatha soon turned and saw me coming from behind. She had long hair almost to her waist. And she smiles a lot. But this time, she didn’t smile. She probably felt embarrassed by her uncontrolled laughter which caught my attention. We didn’t say anything to each other. I could have just gone to my room or something, but the movie didn’t look too bad when I stood there for some seconds. It seemed like an American movie, judging by the first two scenes.

Then the next scene that pooped up turned out a man and his woman were about to say goodnight, and he kissed her, I mean he kissed her so well. I had my eyes glued to the TV while bending gradually to support myself with the couch. It was something I had wished to do with some of the girls back then in school, but I never got the chance. I watched with rapt attention to see what those two people were up to.
Like, does he open his mouth? And aim right for the center of the mouth, or to the side, or what? I was far gone with so many imaginations that when I felt a touch on my shoulder, I jumped out of shock. Agatha started laughing so hard that I thought she’d pee in her pants. When I was calm, she stopped laughing. She teased me about paying so much attention to the TV. I just blushed shyly.
“Femi, don’t tell me you haven’t kissed before?” She said.

I was shy to look her in the face, I just hung my bead down. “Not really,” I broke the awkward silence, still not looking her in the face. “Not really? That’s not a straightforward response,” she said. “Okay, I haven’t,” I answered. She was calm and stared at my face when finally l looked up.
I told her I just didn’t know how to do it. She just giggled and stared at the TV. The scene was gone and this time, some cops were after some suspected criminals. I was watching absentmindedly.

I kinda felt dumb for telling her I don’t know how to kiss and she did realize how I felt, so she came closer and put her arm around me. “Femi,” she said, “do you really want to know how to kiss? What if — well, if you practice on me? I’m not going to tell anyone.”
I was mute for some seconds figuring out what to say. Could it be she’s trying to test me? Then I thought about the chance of getting my first kiss with a house help and how it would be easier to get over, having done something dumb with Agatha than with some girls from school.
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked her. She simply smiled, revealing her cute dimples.

“Oh! Very simple. Put your arms around me,” she said, so I did. Mehnn, her skin felt softer than my sisters. “Now, just kiss me,” she said. I stood there still contemplating and she added, “C’mon, there is no big deal, just kiss my lips. So I put my lips out a little and aimed for her cheek, but she turned her head at the last second so l landed on her mouth. I pecked at it and sat back. She simply closed her eyes and smiled but I had a feeling she was laughing inside. Our eyes got locked in contact when I turned, she started laughing but soon stopped when my look changed.

“You’re making jest of me,” I said. She apologized in seconds.
“You know what, let me give you a few tips first. I’m not an expert or anything but try this. Don’t close your lips so tight. Leave a little opening, go in slowly. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t jump away like you got an electric shock. Take your time!” We tried again and did exactly as she said. It felt better. Her lips pressed right against mine and we hugged each other. She said it was better and had me practice one more time.

“Was there something I was supposed to do with my tongue?” I asked. I thought she’d laugh at my dumbness but she didn’t, she just let out a naughty smile and raised her eyebrows. “How did you know?” she asked. I just smiled and uttered no words. We hugged again and she told me to kiss her like before, so she would show me how to do it.

This time, when we pressed our lips together, she slipped her tongue between my lips and right into my mouth. There was this feeling inside of me that felt like a shock. She said we should try again, and this time I should push against hers, too. So we did that.
While we kissed, I had gotten a hard-on. If I had known it would lead to it, I would have stopped right away because I really didn’t want her to notice I got an erection.

To be continued...
©Frank The Writer

________________

This is a fresh story, so please, Like, Comment and Share! �♥



Note: I write my stories myself and I do not copy and paste other people's stories. So wherever you see my story, kindly note it was copied.

frankwriter:
Diary Of A Pastor's Son

Episode 1 �

Written by: Frank The Writer

Do Not Copy or Repost

__________

Fair Warning: This story is rated 18+ and may not be suitable for readers below 18+

Dear Diary,
It's me again. It’s time to tell my story and what being a son of a pastor meant to me. Well, I’m not the regular kind of a pastor's son you are used to. I guess I’m different and my story would tell more about my life some years ago in South West, Nigeria.
Sit back. Relax and with your fingers crossed as I take you down the memories of my life experience.

***
In a family of four siblings, I was the only son of my parents. The rest three followed after I was born. It was such a good treat from my parents being the only boy in the house. I was cherished by my father, a pastor. I wouldn’t say he cherished me more than my sisters but I knew he had a special place for me in his heart. My father wanted to have more boys after I was birthed but it wasn’t God’s plan as he would always say. He was the kind of person who believed every single thing was ordered by God.

Oh! I should introduce myself. Forgive my manners. My name is Dickson Femi. A typical Yoruba boy. Like I said earlier, I’m the only son and also the eldest in a family of four. Shola, Aramide, and Bidemi were my sisters. They were 15, 13, and 10 years respectively. Then, I was 17 and I was done with Secondary School.

This family of four used to be lively and exciting not until we reduced drastically. How? You may ask. Well, one of my aunties who lived in Ibadan was delivered of a baby girl, and it was her first child. She needed someone to assist her with a few house chores and run errands too. So that was how my mom gave out Aramide to stay with my aunty. Bidemi was the last born and her troubles in the neighborhood were getting out of hand, so my father changed her school from day to boarding.
So it was just Shola and I in the house.

Sola was in Ss1. My mother’s replica. She was not thin nor was she fat, but I knew she had always wanted to add flesh by all means. Nobody took after my mom like Shola. The only difference was her height. At 15 she was already taller than my mom and me. My mother was a full-time businesswoman. Always out of the house, hustling for money. She leaves in the morning and when next you’d see her would be evening. My father was also like that, but he could come back home anytime. And most of the time, he comes back to prepare for the church; mostly-weekly services
.
I wouldn’t say my parents were rich but we were doing pretty well. All thanks to my father’s multiple sources of income. Aside from being a pastor in one Pentecostal church, well, my father was many things. So we lived comfortably in a three-bedroom flat in Ondo State.

Shola and I were used to arguing about stuff like brothers and sisters and we were also used to confiding in each other and asking for advice. Shola and I were like twins, doing the house chores together. Since I was always at home while she went to school, I assisted in most house chores. Sometimes, Shola leaves for school without doing anything while I woke up to sweep, wash the dishes, and do other stuff like that. That was the kind of brother I was to her.

Well, unlike everyone in the house, I was less of a religious person. I wasn’t wayward but I hated going to church and behaving like a Saint and all those crap. In my father's church, they always spent hours preaching the same thing every day. “Repent, Christ is coming soon. Give your life to Christ” and all those long talks. I’m sure you know the rest. Yes, you do. I was literally tired of hearing these preaching every damn time.

Sometimes I faked being sick just to miss service on Sunday but my father would always insist that I still go because he always assured me of getting healing from church, and whenever I return acting strong, he would think I was healed because I followed him to church but little did he know I was never sick.

One of the hardest parts of being a pastor's son is the way everybody sees and treats you. Growing up, you’re a normal kid until everybody finds out that your father is a pastor and then everything changes. People made me look like a perfect boy but little did they know that I was different from my dad. I was simply naughty, and silly. You can’t even predict what my next action would be.
I think the notion that pastors' children need to be perfect and spotless is unhealthy and can have many negative effects on us. So many weighty expectations are placed on us and it’s quite annoying.

Everything was going fine in the house until my father returned from work one day with a teenage girl, Agatha. She was an orphan and a member of my father's church. According to my father, it was agreed in the church meeting that my father accommodates her while the church decides on what to start for her and how to raise the money too. And that was how Agatha got to stay with us, doing most of the house chores like she was a house help. Judging by her look, I’d say she was probably nineteen or twenty years old. Agatha was from Eket in Akwa Ibom state.

***

When everyone must have gone out, it was always Agatha and me alone in the house. She loved watching TV after doing house chores. I could stay indoors as long as my phone was fully charged. I was always with my system doing one or two things for my personal development.

So one day, I got bored in the room and decided to ease myself. After using the toilet, I came out and noticed Agatha was seeing a movie in the living. She sat relaxed on the couch in one of her casual wear. I felt like joining her in the living room to cool off a little, but a part of me was like I should get back to my room. I obliged to the voice not until she screamed out of excitement. That really got my attention that I suddenly became interested in seeing what she was watching.

Agatha soon turned and saw me coming from behind. She had long hair almost to her waist. And she smiles a lot. But this time, she didn’t smile. She probably felt embarrassed by her uncontrolled laughter which caught my attention. We didn’t say anything to each other. I could have just gone to my room or something, but the movie didn’t look too bad when I stood there for some seconds. It seemed like an American movie, judging by the first two scenes.

Then the next scene that pooped up turned out a man and his woman were about to say goodnight, and he kissed her, I mean he kissed her so well. I had my eyes glued to the TV while bending gradually to support myself with the couch. It was something I had wished to do with some of the girls back then in school, but I never got the chance. I watched with rapt attention to see what those two people were up to.
Like, does he open his mouth? And aim right for the center of the mouth, or to the side, or what? I was far gone with so many imaginations that when I felt a touch on my shoulder, I jumped out of shock. Agatha started laughing so hard that I thought she’d pee in her pants. When I was calm, she stopped laughing. She teased me about paying so much attention to the TV. I just blushed shyly.
“Femi, don’t tell me you haven’t kissed before?” She said.

I was shy to look her in the face, I just hung my bead down. “Not really,” I broke the awkward silence, still not looking her in the face. “Not really? That’s not a straightforward response,” she said. “Okay, I haven’t,” I answered. She was calm and stared at my face when finally l looked up.
I told her I just didn’t know how to do it. She just giggled and stared at the TV. The scene was gone and this time, some cops were after some suspected criminals. I was watching absentmindedly.

I kinda felt dumb for telling her I don’t know how to kiss and she did realize how I felt, so she came closer and put her arm around me. “Femi,” she said, “do you really want to know how to kiss? What if — well, if you practice on me? I’m not going to tell anyone.”
I was mute for some seconds figuring out what to say. Could it be she’s trying to test me? Then I thought about the chance of getting my first kiss with a house help and how it would be easier to get over, having done something dumb with Agatha than with some girls from school.
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked her. She simply smiled, revealing her cute dimples.

“Oh! Very simple. Put your arms around me,” she said, so I did. Mehnn, her skin felt softer than my sisters. “Now, just kiss me,” she said. I stood there still contemplating and she added, “C’mon, there is no big deal, just kiss my lips. So I put my lips out a little and aimed for her cheek, but she turned her head at the last second so l landed on her mouth. I pecked at it and sat back. She simply closed her eyes and smiled but I had a feeling she was laughing inside. Our eyes got locked in contact when I turned, she started laughing but soon stopped when my look changed.

“You’re making jest of me,” I said. She apologized in seconds.
“You know what, let me give you a few tips first. I’m not an expert or anything but try this. Don’t close your lips so tight. Leave a little opening, go in slowly. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t jump away like you got an electric shock. Take your time!” We tried again and did exactly as she said. It felt better. Her lips pressed right against mine and we hugged each other. She said it was better and had me practice one more time.

“Was there something I was supposed to do with my tongue?” I asked. I thought she’d laugh at my dumbness but she didn’t, she just let out a naughty smile and raised her eyebrows. “How did you know?” she asked. I just smiled and uttered no words. We hugged again and she told me to kiss her like before, so she would show me how to do it.

This time, when we pressed our lips together, she slipped her tongue between my lips and right into my mouth. There was this feeling inside of me that felt like a shock. She said we should try again, and this time I should push against hers, too. So we did that.
While we kissed, I had gotten a hard-on. If I had known it would lead to it, I would have stopped right away because I really didn’t want her to notice I got an erection.

To be continued...
©Frank The Writer

________________

This is a fresh story, so please, Like, Comment and Share! �♥



Note: I write my stories myself and I do not copy and paste other people's stories. So wherever you see my story, kindly note it was copied.

Abeg continue it and pls give us a steady update

https://www.nairaland.com/7152891/life-high-priestess
Come and read my story everyone frankwriter am sorry for posting my story link in ur thread.

Johnny234:
Abeg continue it and pls give us a steady update

This is not nice. Why quoting the long update?

Heartstrings:
This is not nice. Why quoting the long update?

I am so sorry pls.

Episode 2 �

Written by: Frank The Writer

❌ Do Not Copy or Repost ❌



I really didn’t want her to notice I got an erection, I would feel so embarrassed. But I kissed a few more times, slipping our tongues into each other's mouths. I guess we were holding each other pretty tight, too. I could feel the strap of her bra through the back of her blouse. And on the third or fourth kiss, instead of just backing away we kinda slid our faces sideways, and I was kissing her neck while she was kissing mine. It really felt good.

When we sat back after that, Agatha's face was a little red, and she seemed to be breathing funny. I felt a little odd myself, kind of hot inside. And she looks down at my lap and her mouth fell open. She could see through my shorts a big dark stain in the middle of my crotch right where there was a big bulge from my cock. I was so embarrassed. I had to leave the living room and I caught her smiling when I turned back.

Naughty me, I finally learned how to kiss a girl. That night, I had a dream about her, I can’t remember exactly what happened, but when I woke up I had cum in my shorts.

The following day was Sunday, and it was likely impossible to have time with Agatha. Sundays were the day everyone stayed back at home after long hours at the Church. Going to church actually made me detest Sundays so much. So there were lesser chances of having anything with Agatha, but I couldn’t keep my thought off her. And throughout that day I noticed the way she was looking at me. I knew she wanted me just the way I wished to explore more with her.

Facially, Agatha wasn’t looking bad. If I were to rate her beauty on a scale of one to ten, I'd give her five. She was fair and had dimples. Like I said earlier, she smiles a lot.

After dinner that Sunday night when everyone has gone to bed, I was able to pull her aside and suggest we slip out the back door for a little while. She let out a naughty smile. “Femi, you’re a bad boy,” she said. We laughed. I asked if we could practice kissing again. I was afraid she’d be upset about me having a hard-on the last time, but it turned out she was equally trying to find a way to ask me the same question.

We figured we couldn’t stay out there in the dark too long before someone noticed we were missing. Agatha and my sister, Shola shared the same bed while I slept in my father's room, and sometimes I’d sleep in the living room. So we just did a quick one, kissed and hugged affectionately.

***
After that night, Agatha and I were gradually getting close to each other unknown to my family. We were always on the lookout for a chance to sneak for a kiss. I remember one time, we were kissing and I had my hands around Agatha's waist, and then I started rubbing her back. I wasn’t planning to, really I wasn’t.
But as my hands kept rubbing, I slid along her side and touched her breasts. Well, I touched her bra and that through her blouse. But she didn’t jerk away or anything, she just kept kissing. That gave me a lot of confidence, but I couldn’t hold the bare breast, just through the bra cup.

That went on for a couple of weeks, and then we were kissing and I was stroking her through her blouse and Agatha asked if I didn’t want to get closer. She then pulled her blouse and I put my hand underneath. The feeling was out of this world. Her skin was really smooth, soft, and warm, too. I ran my fingertips over her side and touched her bra cup. It was stiff and scratchy and I didn’t think she could feel anything under it. But the moment I put my hand on it, she moved a little and stuck her tongue inside my mouth. I let her put her hands inside my shirt, and she struck the back of my jeans once or twice and cupped my butt, which felt kinda weird.

One Saturday night, we got another chance to be alone. We always waited for everyone to go to bed and sometimes I’d pretend to sleep off on the couch, patiently waiting for my sister and my mom to go to bed, then Agatha would leave the room to meet me in the Sitting room. A movie was showing on our 32 inches TV.
We were sitting next to each other on the couch, and Agatha put her arm around me and pulled me in close and we started kissing. We were really going at it hot and heavy, I guess. The blue bulb in the living room illuminated and the ceiling fan was in motion. I pulled her blouse and she rolled my T-shirt to my armpits. I could feel my d*ck pressing hard against my jeans, but I was used to that by then. Yet we were watchful for any sight of anyone coming.

I didn’t even know what the movie was showing. We didn’t pay attention. We started kissing each other’s neck and stuff, and Agatha leaned back until she was on her back and I was on top of her. Her bra was loose and without really realizing it, I slipped my hand inside and got my first feel of a real live breast! This might sound dumb, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I guess I didn’t realize that it was the bra that was so stiff and not what was underneath. I mean, I knew there weren’t any bones or anything there, but I just never thought it would feel so good and succulent.

When I felt the little button at the tip of Agatha's breast, I felt some kind of sensation all over m body that I pulled my hand out quickly but she grabbed hold of my arm before I could pull it out from underneath her blouse.
"You can do that,” she said, and I didn’t need to be asked twice. So we got kissing, and I was handling Agatha's tits. I wasn’t surprised that my d*ck was very hard, especially since I was right on top of her.

She swung her legs up onto the couch and I was right in between them, holding her down on the couch while the other hand was busy. With my d*ck hard as a flag pole and I was lost in what we were doing, I just started rubbing it against her. That was the least I could think of. “What are you doing?” Agatha said in a low tone. I asked her what she meant, and she said down there. I felt embarrassed but she said it was alright.

Then she asked me if it didn’t hurt my jeans being so tight, and I said yeah, it did. “So why don’t you slide them down?” she added. I told her I don’t know if I should. Agatha said I could do what I wanted, and she was going to slide her pants down too because she wanted to rub herself too. I was shocked. I didn’t know girls did that. She said she sometimes played with herself after we got through kissing because I would have gotten her so hot that she would need to ease herself.

Well, I told her about having dreams about her, and how I woke wet the following day. I told her I was getting pretty hot thinking about how I’d made her feel, too. So we both undid our shorts and slipped them down around our ankles.
Agatha had on a pair of shinny pink panties which covered her smooth ass. I was glad I was on my white neat boxers, not any of the old ones in my bags. We both smiled when we saw the matching stains on the fronts of her panties and my boxers.

Anyway, she spread her legs apart a little and I got off her again, and I started rubbing against her. We started kissing again and other kinds of stuff too. I guess just rubbing wasn’t enough for girls, because Agatha put my hand down there and stuck it inside her panties. I would’ve put my hand on my d*ck, too, but I didn’t have one free ‘cause, I was feeling her up again. I was running her so hard that the head of my d*ck poked out of my boxers. I was hoping Agatha wouldn’t notice, and for a while, she didn’t.

She stopped kissing me and put her head to the side and groaned softly and then all of a sudden she jerked back and forth a few times. “Are you alright?” I asked. “I came,” she answered. “That’s what a girl’s orgasm is like. And it was a good one, too. How about you?” Before I could say anything, she started to pull her hand out of her panties and it brushed against the tip of my d*ck. I said I was sorry. “For what?” she asked. And then she put her hand right on my d*ck! I thought I was gonna blow right away but then it felt so good. Her fingers were real soft and kinda slippery—from fingering herself. I never felt anything like that before; I felt some kind of sweet sensation in my body.

Agatha said she didn’t want us to have the real sex because she felt I might end up sending her on the journey of nine months and she wasn’t ready to go into the world and multiple. We laughed over it. So she continued with my d*ck; she slid it up and down slowly. When her fingers brushed the sides of my helmet, I thought I would die of pleasure. I groaned inaudibly. But after she rubbed a little longer, it just felt right and pretty soon I felt something happening. I tried telling her, but the cum just shot right out of me and splattered over her hand and her belly. We kissed a little more before I got up and got a cloth to clean her up.

Shockingly, my sister’s room door opened.

To be continued…
© Frank The Writer

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Episode 3 ��

Written by: Frank The Writer

❌Do Not Copy or Repost❌

I was startled by the sound of the door and seeing it was opened, I quickly rushed in the direction of the TV control switch and acted like I was about to turn it off. Agatha was smart enough, she quickly asked if I have turned it off to avoid being blown up by high voltage. So I said yes.
Shola just walked straight in the direction of the toilet. I heaved a big sigh of relief as soon as she went in and closed the door. Agatha looked at me and we let out a smile, but my heart was still beating faster. Thank God she didn't catch us, I said to myself.
When finally Agatha went into the bedroom she shared with Shola, I contemplated whether to go to my mom’s room or join my dad in his room.

I reached the door of my dad's room and it seemed he was humming worship songs. He was used to having midnight prayers which I detested so much. Sometimes he would wake everyone and sometimes he would pray alone in his room. He doesn't miss midnight prayers for anything.
So I turned and tiptoed off the door of his room. I went back to the sitting room and relaxed on the couch.

My eyes caught the wall clock and it was 1:23 am. I had some random thoughts and my conscience pricked me. Voices saying this and that. One was clearer and it said something like, “Look at you, pastor's son soiling yourself with Agatha.” "Yes, I’m a pastor's son and I shouldn’t have fun again?” I tried countering the voice. And each time a voice condemned me, it had always used this pastor’s son of a thing attached to it and I hated that voice that I had always felt like shutting it off my head, but it seemed to have rented a space in my head.

The next day, we were all eating breakfast together at the dining table. My father took Agatha like his own daughter, so we did almost everything together and he encouraged Shola and I not to make her feel differently. He once told us to see Agatha like one of us, but if only my father knew what had been going on between Agatha and I.
So while we were eating, Shola almost got us in trouble when she said something about seeing Agatha and I on the couch last night, I was freaking out. I snuck a peek at Agatha who also was shocked, judging from her look. But I was relieved she didn’t say what I had thought she would say.
She simply said we were movie freaks and loved staying up late at the night.

“Femi doesn’t have work to do,” my mother taunted in Yoruba. I felt a bit embarrassed by her comment. She had always wanted me to help her out in her place of business but I just didn’t like going to her shop. My mom was into ladies' wear and she had two girls working for her, so what's the need of going there? My mom eventually talked Agatha into coming to help her in the shop every day. And that really pissed me off—and I knew Agatha wasn’t happy too, but she pretended and did nod her head like she wasn’t so sad about it. She simply didn't have a choice but to dance to my mom's tune. I kinda feel my mom didn't really like Agatha just the way my Dad cared about her wellbeing.

Later in the evening, Agatha and I were careful to stay away from each other but she did manage to slip me a note. She didn’t have a phone, so she wrote on a piece of paper. The content of her note said we should probably play cool for a few days to avoid being caught. Her handwriting was really nice that I read and re-read her note almost five times. She equally expressed her displeasure concerning going to the shop with my mom.

****

The next few days were awful, not being able to hold or kiss her or do anything silly and naughty. I spent my nights jacking off on the couch, thinking about her. Since she started going to shop with my mom, she hardly had time for us. When we finally did manage to be alone, it was just for a few seconds, enough for a quick kiss, and we didn’t even have time to talk. But as we split up again, Agatha whispered to my ear, “write me a note,” she said. So I did.
I wrote down how I thought about her all the time, how I had dreams about her, and how I missed our kissing. I slipped it to her when we were all having dinner.

The next day, she gave me a note back. It said she thought about me, too. That made me feel really special, and I felt like I was already in love with her. She said she couldn’t wait for us to be together again which went double for me.

For the next couple of weeks, we didn’t get a single kiss. Guess who was back? The last born of the house, Bidemi was back and you know she was troublesome, more reason my father changed her from day to boarding school, just to see if she would cool down. Her school was on break.
So Agatha and I agreed that since Bidemi was back, we should play it cool, at least far from late-night stuff. And we didn’t want anyone to notice us getting off by ourselves all the time. As it turned out, though, that didn’t mean we couldn’t do anything.

One Saturday morning, my parents were out and the house was left with Shola, Bidemi, and me. We were having our breakfast at the dining table like our father had taught us to always eat together. My father would always say, “A family that eats together, prays together.”
This time Agatha and I were sitting next to each other. I was really in agony, having her so close that I could smell the flowering soap she had used that morning to bathe, but not being able to touch Agatha got me in distress.
She wore a certain white blouse that allowed me to see her breasts hiding in her bra when she bent over a little. I wanted to yank open that blouse and grab hold of her dangling boobs. With all that going on in my head, I wasn’t surprised I got a hard d*ck. I didn’t think anyone would notice, with it under the table, but I think Agatha would probably guess.

Anyway, I was taking a bite of yam and sauce Agatha made for us. Then I felt something on my crotch, I looked down right away and saw Agatha's hand under the tablecloth. I felt her undoing my zipper. I looked around the table, and neither Shola nor Bidemi seemed to notice anything going on. The TV was on and it got their attention.
Though it was tough to keep a straight face while Agatha slide her hand into my boxers and pulled my hard shaft and started jacking me off. I was going to stop her but that would simply implicate us, my sisters might notice, so I maintained like nothing was going on.

Shola asked me to pass her the drinking water by my side, but it took two or three times before he got my attention to do that. Agatha just giggled and kept on. When I felt myself about to explode, I put my hand down there and pushed her hand away. No way I was going to cum with my d*ck waving in the air like that and allowing it all over my shorts. I just got it stuffed back into my shorts and exploded. I gave Agatha that look that literally meant she shouldn’t have risked us being caught by any of my sisters.
We were just lucky the two were busy eating and watching one action movie that was showing on the TV. Agatha wouldn't stop being crazy and unpredictable.

After that, I wrote Agatha a note telling her it wasn’t fair that she could jack me off in front of my sisters and I couldn't even get my hands on her breasts unless we were alone. But she wrote me back saying, "You'll think of something.”
It was later that week I finally figured out what she meant. In the meantime, she sent me another note saying she missed our sessions so much that she’d always dream about me.

One day, Shola, Bidemi, and I were watching TV, and all of us were seated together on the couch. It was raining that very day, and Agatha wore a big sweater that made her look lumpy—but I still remembered what was underneath. Agatha said she was cold, so she reached for the blanket in the bedroom and threw it over her lap—and then she asked if I wasn’t feeling cold, too. I was too dumb to figure out what she was up to, but luckily, Bidemi who was sitting on the other side of me said she was feeling cold, so Agatha spread the blanket over all our laps.

In a little while, she reached underneath the blanket and grabbed my hand, and guided it over to her lap. When she tucked my hand under the waistband of her sweatpants, I quickly understood what she was up to. My fingers brushed over a patch of hair, which I figured was like the one above my manhood. And then I felt some fold of skin. They were already a little wet. I didn’t know where I was going, but Agatha guided me a little, and pretty soon I had worked a couple of fingers in and out. I could hear her breathing getting shallow, so I figured I was on the right track.
When I started rubbing faster, Bidemi looked over when she felt the blanket shaking, so I had to slow down. It took a while, but eventually, Agatha jerked a few times, and then she pulled my hand away, letting me wipe it on the inside of her sweatpants first.
It was one of the craziest things I ever did with Agatha and it was weird.

One night, I ran into her while she was going to the bathroom to take her bath. We figured it was later and no one would notice, so we snuck into the toilet together. The door was barely closed before Agatha was all over me, pulling my d*ck out of my pajamas and planting her lips right on mine. It felt so good to be with her again, without having to hide what we were doing. I was so hot for her that I exploded right away, although I kept diddling her a few minutes before the unexpected happened; Bidemi bumped into us with her hands on her belly. She seemed to be having a running stomach and we didn’t know when she was close.
Yes, she caught us pants down and she stood outside the door so shocked. She had tissue paper in her left hand.

Finally, someone caught us and it was Bidemi the parrot.
Damn, I looked at Agatha, her face was staring at the floor and I couldn’t look my sister in the face. I was so embarrassed.

To be continued
©Frank The Writer

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I would have blackmailed you to the core

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Episode 4 ��

Written by: Frank The Writer

❌ Do Not Copy or Repost ❌


Agatha and I reluctantly wore our clothes while Bidemi was giving us a signal to excuse her so she could use the toilet. It was unlike her; she didn’t say anything. Maybe because she needed to ease herself badly. As soon as we shamefully made ways for her, she banged the door as she entered. So I knew she wasn’t happy with what she saw.

“What should we do now?” whispered Agatha.
“Don’t worry, just go. I’ll talk to her,” I replied hastily.
“Are you sure? You know how Bidemi opens her mouth…”
“Just go. I’ll wait here, and talk to her,” I answered with my hands in my mouth.

Agatha uttered no word again but I could feel she was so scared of the possible outcome. She knew my sister to be talkative. She eventually went inside minutes later while Bidemi was busy blasting the toilet with a loud explosion. I tried remembering what we ate for dinner and it did occur to me it was beans.
It was about fifteen minutes later she quietly opened the door. Our eyes met just the moment she peeped to see if anyone of us was still there. She withdrew her head immediately and closed the door again.

"Come out naa,” I pleaded in a lower tone. But she didn’t say anything. She kept mute and remained unmoved. “I also want to use the toilet, too,” I added. Yet she was unmoved. She felt I wanted to trick her, and she was right. I walked straight to the sitting room and slumped on the sofa.
“Have you talked to her?” Agatha dashed out of the bedroom. I simply replied by nodding my head sideways in the negative.
"What is she doing inside there?” I kept quiet with my legs crossed.

Minutes later, Bidemi came out of the toilet and stood there silently. I heard the whining of the toilet door, so I stood up immediately and reached to where she was, "Please, don't tell anybody about this, you know what dad would do if he hears such." I pleaded in Yoruba language. "Hmmm, Femi, so you know what he would do and yet you couldn't stop yourself from doing it?" She said.

I didn't say anything. Instead, I was just rubbing my hands and pleaded she keep it a secret. It was late at night and I didn't want to draw the attention of anybody. "I won't tell anybody but it's going to cost you shaa," she added with a silly smile. I already knew she would want me to bribe her—because it was something common among my siblings and I. Once you're caught, the only option was a bribe. It was only Aramide who wouldn't waste time reporting. She was just like my father, always too religious. And woebetide if my father gets to hear you did anything stupid. You're likely o fast for days and endure other pains. Bidemi said I'd have to give her two thousand naira to add to her provision money once she's set to resume school. I begged her to reduce it to 1k but she refused. Bidemi added that if eventually, she catches us again, she would keep multiplying the money. I had no option but to dance to her tune.


Two weeks later, one of the tenants in our compound packed out and one decent family came in the following week to stay as tenants on the ground floor with their daughter whom l later realized to be Bukola. Yes, we were staying upstairs in a two-storey building.

The day they packed in, I was at home that hot afternoon. I watched them from the window of our sitting room offloading their properties from a long lorry. And I saw their pretty daughter too. She was an average-looking girl with skin as dark as midnight yet dazzling and beautiful. She is what you call black beauty. She had eye-catching assets; her boobs and ass size can never go unnoticed. She should probably be my age mate or less, I had thought.

As per good boy, I went downstairs and assisted them to carry their stuff. The parents were happy to see a stranger assisting them and they thanked me. While helping them, I constantly stole a gaze at Bukola and she once caught me staring at her. I was quick to avert my eyes, and I didn’t look her way again till the whole thing was packed inside their new home. Her father, a not too short man offered me five hundred naira, but I told him not to worry about the money. He was wowed, and he couldn’t stop thanking me.

***

Later that week, my father came telling us to mind our business and avoid the new tenant. He said his spirit didn’t accept theirs and according to him, there was something about them. (You know typical pastor's mindset). My sisters and I obliged. If only he knew I had already had something to do with them.
Meanwhile, the fact that his spirit didn’t align with theirs never meant mine didn’t align with them. My mind was equally on Bukola, the new girl. I couldn’t wait to start talking to her.

Agatha and I hadn’t kissed nor did anything naughty for a while after Bidemi caught us. My whole body hadn’t been the same too. I badly craved for her but we were only being careful not to allow what happened to repeat itself. We might be unlucky and the next person to catch us might be my father. But I had always felt Agatha would always satisfy herself by herself. It was something she could do in the bathroom or toilet. I couldn’t try that shit on my own. The thought alone disgusted me.

So one day, I was alone in the house as usual. Agatha had equally gone with my mom to her shop. I was busy with my system, trying to finish up something before I got the urge to drink something cold. So I went downstairs in my shorts with no inners. While going down the staircase, I saw Bukola coming back from God knows where. She saw me and she was blushing. I was surprised and thought it was a regular smile, I gave a smile back.

“Ekeaso,” she greeted in Yoruba. She meant “Good afternoon”.
“How are you?”
“I'm fine. Thank you for the other day.” She added in Yoruba.
“It's okay.”

I had no idea my d*ck was exposed to her front from that shorts, and she blushed to see that. I felt shy but quickly used my lefthand down there. We had a minute chitchat in Yoruba in which she told me she was in SS3 and was preparing to write Waec. I was leaving, but she stopped me and asked.

"Wait, are you going out on this shorts?”
“Yes, what’s wrong with it? Just to buy a drink over there.” I hovered my hand towards my machine, and I could feel it was standing and looking towards Bukola. She simply blushed and walked past.
With a half-smile, I headed towards Iya Ade provision shop and bought a bottle of chilled Pepsi, and went back. And that was how Bukola and I became close to each other; in terms of friendship. Bukola was quite friendly. It didn’t take weeks before we exchanged phone numbers and boom we started chatting on WhatsApp.

***

Bidemi had returned to school and yet Agatha and I still hadn’t done anything. Not even a kiss. She seemed to have gotten over me during the period we went on break. I thought she would quickly get back to me as soon as Bidemi returned to school, but she didn’t. Could it be she was waiting for me to come to her? Well, I quickly substituted her with Bukola who was always giving me steady attention online. And nobody in the house knew I was in contact with the new girl in our compound. Not even Shola was aware.

One night, Bukola and I were chatting and we gradually went lustfully. Our conversation went thus:
“What’s up Bukky, why are you still awake? No school tomorrow?” I texted. She replied with a sad emoji followed by a response.
“I'm tired of going there. Every day, the same routine. It’s becoming boring and I can’t wait to write my final exams and leave that school.”

“Boring? It shouldn’t be boring when you’re a girl,” I replied with a smiling emoji.
“How do you mean I’m a girl?”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend in school?”
“No, I don’t. Boys in my school are after the light-skinned girl. I’m not attracted to any one of them.”
I sent a wow emoji and she replied with a laughing emoji.
“You must be joking. Who said you’re not attractive? Are they blind?”
“They are not. I’m simply not alluring to their taste. A black girl like me.”
“Black is beautiful,” I texted.

“So what kind of girl do you like?”
“I like all-girl with the same thing,” I added an emoji (devil smile).
“Hahaha…. You’re not serious,” she replied.
I was about to type “I’m serious” before her message came in. I stopped typing the moment I got her text. “So do you like me?”
“Yeah, you’re also a girl with that same thing,” I replied with an emoji.
“What thing do you mean exactly?”
“Well, I can’t say, but you know what I mean.” I texted with a lustful mind.
She didn’t reply again.

Five minutes later, she still didn’t reply. I was worried, maybe she was caught by her parents or something. Could it be she didn’t like my response? Ten minutes after, I texted her. “Bukky, hope you are not offended?”
“It's okay. I’m fine,” she replied and went offline. I waited to see if she would come back online but she didn’t. That was how I slept off on the couch with my phone by my side. It was later in the morning when I woke up and turned my data off.

The following day, thoughts about Bukola were what filled my mind and I wished she wasn’t going to school just like myself. As usual, I was all alone with my system. I was seeing a movie with it when I overheard someone knock at the door. My father was the last person to leave the house, I quickly thought he was the one, so I shut my system and brought out a random Christian novel which I placed on the system., "I’m coming, please," I rushed to open the door.

Lo and behold, it was Bukoka who stood there. I was shocked but I opened the door and she came in wearing a light cloth and—a bit short that I could see her navel.
“What happened? You didn’t go to school?” I queried. She simply nodded her head in the negative. Mehnn, I couldn’t figure out her intention. I was even scared about our previous conversation last night. But I started asking her questions and we got talking in Yoruba. She said they were from Osun State. And she was the only child of her parents.
What if my father comes in now? That was the next thought that rushed through my head. I was really scared because you never can tell when he would come back. It was only Shola, my mom and Agatha were the ones I could tell when they return to the house every day.

I soon observed Bukola was unable to sit in one place, and her eyeballs were moving here and there. She was fidgeting; rubbed her hands continuously. I was not myself too. Like, who does that? We had a chat last night and then this morning she miss school and here she was sitting beside me and acting strange. Hope this girl is normal? Hope she’s not possessed or something? I pondered.

“Have you played this game before?” She broke the short silence and moved closer. She showed me her phone and pointed to one app.
“No, I haven’t. What’s the game like?”
“Hmmm, this game that is reigning everywhere.” She gave me a single smooch on my cheek and I was completely in shock. I looked at her eyes and all I could see was lust wholly developed in her eyes. “Are you okay?” I said.
“Sure. I’m good,” she replied. She then bites her lips seductively. My machine was getting harder gradually and she was able to sense that with her eyes. I quickly stood and locked the door and returned to sit on the sofa.

She looked at me and let out a naughty smile. She understood what I just did and I could tell she was glad too.

To be continued...
©Frank The Writer

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I wish I was the pastor's son

Episode 5 ��

Written by: Frank The Writer

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“Please, can I get a cup of water?” Bukola requested.
"Gimme two minutes.” I left the Sitting room and headed towards the kitchen. I returned with sachet water. “Thank you,” she said when she took the water from me. She opened the sachet water and—water splashed all over my body, my shorts mostly. “Oh! Please, I’m sorry.” She touched my short and suddenly felt my machine. I felt some kind pulse and she noticed. She looked me in the eyes lustfully that I felt she wasn’t even thirsty. She seemed to have it all figured out in her head and I was weak to resist her. My flesh was ready to dance to her tune. Agatha had influenced me, too.

Well, one thing lead to another, and before she blinked again, I grabbed her and we started kissing. I noticed we were not good kissers just like Agatha. We exchanged our tongues and bit each other’s lips.

Then I made her lie down on the longest couch in the sitting room. She was breathing deeply and thought about what I was going to do next. I continued with her lips. She simply had the best lips. It was so soft and looked like plums. The moment I kissed her, she kissed me back. She was literally eating me up like anything. It got so intense really fast. We kissed for long and she seemed to be a kiss freak. As I kissed, I was having my hands on her hips. I was pressing it hard. She moaned but in a silent way.

My heart was pounding fast. I started kissing her neck, lips, and forehead. We started kissing each other aggressively. Bukola got up from the couch and put me down. “I want to stay on top,” she said. I obliged. She was on top of me, kissing and running his hands on my chest. She was wearing a light top that revealed her navel. I pulled her top with the speed of light revealing her blue laced bra. Her gigantic melon was all I could see behind the bra. Those were real big boobs. Hers was quite bigger than Agatha's. I placed my hand over her right boobs, it was soft and spongy. I tried to unhook the bra but I had a tough time unhooking it. “Why is it taking long?” she said. I finally unhooked it and her boobs popped up out. I couldn’t control my urge, I made a gasping sound. It was deep.

She bent down and her breast were on my face. Like she knew what was in my mind, she signaled me to suckled on her boobies. And just like a hungry lion, I sucked on her boobs and played with it. Bukola was still on top of me and the feel of her boobs in my face was heavenly. Her dark nips were so hard like they could cut like grass. I bit them while she let out a soft moan. I equally played with it, using my fingers. She was moving up and down making her boobs move on my face.
I grabbed her by her hips and pinned her on the couch. It was my turn to stay on top. I started kissing her whole body. It was then I realized every girl has a weak point. I think one particular place for all girls is a very sensitive spot. For Agatha, it was her ears, but for Bukola, it was her stomach. When I touched her down her belly, she was so sensitive, and she wasn’t able to tolerate it. So I started licking her belly gently. I made a circle with my fingers around her navel and she was moaning, Ugh.. ugh.. ugh.

It was about thirty minutes of pre-intimacy with her boobs and stomach. Then she tried to pull my shorts. “Please, stop.” I said and I quickly noticed she was puzzled. “Why?” she asked.
“I haven’t done it before and…” I paused.
“And what?” Her countenance changed.
“We can’t do this without protection.” I broke the awkward silence.

I watched Bukola as she hastily wore her clothes back and when I tried calling her back, she left angrily and banged the door. My parents had high expectations from me, and I didn’t want to disappoint them. Two things scared me; one was the possibility of getting her pregnant and secondly, what if she has STD? And it was when she left that I thought of how she stooped so low and wanted to have me badly. Could it be she had been waiting for such opportunity before or perhaps she had another secret agenda?

Later at night, I texted her on WhatsApp. She read my messages but didn’t reply. I didn’t relent. I kept texting her like she was owing me some huge amount of money. It was late in the night and I was the only in the Sitting room. It was twenty minutes later she finally replied back. Bukola said she was pissed off I stopped in the middle of the whole mood, only for me to tell her I haven’t done it before and needed protection too. She said I probably took her as a slut or some sort of run girls. I tried texting her back but she went offline and my messages had just one tick.

The following day, I was upstairs and sighted her washing some clothes while she bent down. The way her breasts moved freely as she washed the clothes was hypnotizing. If at all she was wearing a bra, it wasn’t helping. Her top wasn’t skin tight but tight enough to see the roundness of her big watermelons as they bounced up and down. I felt my machine pulsating in my jeans trousers, and I couldn’t help but stand there for sometimes and feed my eyes on those sizeable boobs. It had been weeks since I had any sort of release. Not even in the dream. The last time I did was when Agatha and I was still doing shit together. She knew how to make me explode in few minutes. I badly missed Agatha’s touch and wished she was right there at the moment. I was gradually turning into something else; always craving for all manners of sexual pleasure. Damn, it wasn’t the old Femi.

A week later, we woke up to very sad news. My aunt, my mom’s immediate sister whom Aramide was staying with, lost her husband. It was so shocking and terrifying. My mom cried for two nights and that really touched me. She kept talking how good and caring the man was—and how he had been a good husband to her sister. If only his good deeds could bring him back to life. He was involved in a terrible accident and died while he was rushed to the hospital. The doctor confirmed he suffered internal bleeding.

Three days later, my father planned that we travel to Ibadan to be with her before the funeral. At that period of her life, my aunty needed people around her, so we all embarked on the journey with my father’s brown Corolla, his second car.

We arrived Friday night and were planning to leave Sunday night after the funeral.
Pleasantries and condolences were exchanged, as expected, that first night. The older folk, including my parents, talked with my Aunt and other family members far into the night. I, on the other hand, decided to turn in early. Shola, Agatha and I were given my Auntie’s husband's room to sleep—and I found it very hard to sleep. The man had passed away, yet there were traces of his existence all around the room. Shola and Agatha slept off before I dozed to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to my father's hand gently shaking me. "Femi wake up."
It was time for morning devotion and everyone else had gathered in the sitting room except me. Sluggishly, I headed towards the sitting room, and all eyes were on me. I found a seat and sat. “Femi, please lead us in praise and worship,” my father announced. I was still half asleep, but I felt a significant weight lift off my shoulders, both literally and emotionally. My heart pounded faster.

"We are waiting Femi,” he added to my discomfort. There was no single worship songs in my head. I closed my eyes to see if one would drop but nothing dropped. All that floated in my head was the scenes of my illicit activities with Bukola and Agatha. I opened my mouth to sing but my brain went numb. It wasn’t like I didn’t know several worship songs but I just didn’t know what happened to me that morning. I was so embarrassed. My father gave me that disappointing look, and I knew he was really mad at me, as per pastor's son.
There were other extended family members too.
“Aramide, please help us out,” my father broke the long silence. It didn’t take her thirty seconds, she cleared her throat and began with a Yoruba song.

Throughout the time we spent during the morning devotion, I was completely lost in thoughts. I thought of what my Dad would say thereafter. Of course, he would so talk and talk until I feel worthless. So when finally the devotion was over, I was the first to rush back inside the room. I hated being criticized publicly and my father had A1 when it comes to that. I didn’t even know he followed me as I went back to the room.

“Femi, what was the meaning of what you just displayed there? Ordinary praise and worship you can’t sing. So what if I had asked you to lead us in prayer?" He queried. I was mute and didn’t know what to say. “At your age Femi!” He continued. He went on and on to emphasize on the importance of prayer and he went as far as mentioning the chapters and verses. “The Bible say we should pray without ceasing. Men always ought to pray... Femi learn how to pray before it’s late!” He walked out of the room. I had never been embarrassed in a very long time knowing everyone probably overhead him from the room.

After we had our breakfast, my father returned to the bedroom where I sat all alone in the bed. "Listen Femi," he said as I turned to see him. "I know lately I've been riding you pretty hard and I'm sorry. I know you'll figure it out and I just want you know that without being prayerful and holding up to God, you’re likely not going far in life.”
“Now follow me, we have some work to do,” he added. I already knew what he meant by that. Every time we visited my Aunt, we ended up helping around the farm. Unlike back home, where the day started at 7 or 8 am, it started at 5 or 6 am here. I got my clothes and jacket and followed my dad and Agatha as we headed out towards the small field behind my Aunt's barn.

“Brother Femi…,” Aramide called from behind.
“Yes, what is it?” I turned.
“Your phone, Bukola is calling you,” she announced loudly. I felt a lump in my throat immediately.
“Bukola ke? The new girl?" Queried my father.
"Tani Bukola?" He meant who’s Bukola?
My father turned and queried. And when I turned to his direction, Agatha was waiting curiously for my response.


To be continued....
© Frank The Writer

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Episode 6 ��

Written by: Frank The Writer

❌ Do Not Copy or Repost ❌


***

“Bukola? Oh! That’s my classmate from secondary school.” I took my phone from Aramide and by then the call already ended. Agatha gave me that look that literally says are you sure? She didn’t utter any word but it was written all over her face. I averted my eyes from her direction.
“Femi, I hope you’re saying the truth. Let it not be what I’m thinking.” My father broke the short silence.

“Bukola is my classmate,” I insisted. Though my heart thudded against my ribs, I still comport myself like I was telling nothing but the truth. Without looking at my phone, I pressed down the volume side and it went into silent mode. I put it behind my jeans pocket.
“You are sure it’s not the new girl in the compound?” My father added as we moved towards the farm.
“Noo.. you told us not to relate with the new tenant,” I replied speedily. My phone vibrated from my behind. No doubt she was calling again and I was glad I did what I did. I knew my father might want me to pick up the call if it had rung again.

My father lead the way to the farm while Agatha and I followed behind. She still had that uncertain look towards me but we didn’t say anything to each other. We soon arrived at the cassava farm which was about two plots of land. The cassava farm was my late aunt’s husband's extra source of income. He loved farming aside from other works he was into. The cassava was due to be harvested. On the other hand, I was less experienced in how to harvest it but I was willing to jump right in.
I watched Agatha harvest it like a pro. Being on my father's side, I watched him carefully as he held it at the stem—and pulling out from the soil.
Soon we were half of the farm. I kept yawning. My stomach felt empty but I didn’t want to complain of hunger. My father had declared fasting during the morning devotion which would last till 3 pm.

About two hours later, we were done harvesting the ones due for harvest. My right hand was red and sore. My dad laughed as he watched me open and close my hand. He taunted me and called me ‘ole’ he meant I was a lazy person. Well, he was right. I wasn’t used to such kind of work.
As we walked back to the house, I looked around and it seemed the mornings here feels magical. The sky was golden as the sun rose. Birds chirped from a distance and the temperature felt friendly. My father was telling me something about the people of Ibadan and their cultural heritage as we walked back to the house. Agatha followed behind.

***

By the time we got back to the house, my aunt and other family members had started breakfast for the younger ones. It wasn’t for us because we were fasting. I don’t even know why my father wanted us to fast that very day.
My eyes were already turning and my belly made a loud noise. I can’t really tell why but anytime we were instructed to fast by my father, those were the period I feel hungrier. On other days I might stay till noon without feeling famished, but anytime my father asked us to fast, that day, all the worms in my belly would assemble and start tormenting me.

The house was bustling with people as neighbors and friends came to offer their condolences. The rest of the day went just like that. People came and left while my Aunt tried her best to remain a good hostess. I’m sure you would like to know if I fasted till 3 pm that day? Uhm, well, without mincing words, I didn’t!
I tried but I couldn’t bear the hunger. Just like my father would always quote the Bible, “No man can do the things of God except he is with him.” Maybe God wasn’t with me and maybe that was why I couldn’t engage in fasting. It was around 12:30 pm when I sneaked inside the kitchen.

The following day would be my Aunt's husband’s funeral, and it was really starting to set in that he was gone and gone forever. Late in the evening, a small circle of men was seen outside the house. I could see they were all men who were a lot like my Aunt's husband. Men of integrity. My father was talking to them and I decided to move closer. They spoke of the deceased, and the kind of man he was, telling stories about some of his crazy ideas and sayings. Of course, nobody usually speaks ill of the dead. It was all positive stuff I heard.

Well, it was a good feeling as I learned more about the man who I knew so little about. I soon found out that my Aunt's husband had not only been a good husband to my Aunt but a perfect friend to all of these men. They were saddened to have lost him so soon. He was 47 and my Aunt was 38.

Their conversation soon diverted as one of these men asked my father, “Has Bose (My Aunt) told you what she plans to do with the farm?” he said and everyone went mute to hear what my father would say. “No, not yet,” replied my father speedily. “But that wouldn’t be a problem. I’ll talk to her, too. Bose is a strong woman too and I think she can take care of it in the long run,” my father added.

After a few seconds, my father spoke again. “Uhm, I think Femi might stay with her for a while after the funeral. I was puzzled. I turned in his direction with my eyes widened, and he nodded his head in affirmation of what he just said. He patted my back too. I wasn’t really happy he said that. I stood up and went to the backyard to ease myself.

“You could go inside and do that,” I heard a voice in the dark. It seemed like Biola's voice and my guess was right when I turned to see her standing behind me. I quickly zipped up my jeans. “I'm sorry,” I uttered, embarrassed. On hearing my voice, she turned, “Oh! It’s you,” she said surprised. Biola was the youngest sister to the deceased, my Aunt's husband. She was probably 20 or less.

I tried kicking some sand over the little pond I had created. I didn't want her to perceive the offensive smell of my urine.
When I looked back at Biola, I could see her eyes watering and I knew she was trying not to cry. She slowly turned around, and I stood there wondering what to do. My eyes wandered up and down her protruded backside. She had a pretty face but she was short. She always tried to wear shoes with heels just to increase her height.

“I'm so sorry about your brother,” I said slowly. “Thanks,” she said, still facing away. When I embraced her, she cried; sobbed, and breathed heavily like she just heard the news. I knew she hadn’t gotten over the whole thing. “It's okay, Biola,” I pleaded with her to stop. When she was finally calm, my clothes were wet from her tears, and with my right hand, I wiped her face. Her eyes seemed red already.
Minutes later, I held her in her left hand and we headed inside.

***

The next morning, we had the funeral. The entire day was a sad ordeal. I soon realized how much I hated seeing my mom and Aunt cry. My dad had his arms around my Aunt. He consoled her while using some Bible chapters and verses to remind her of God’s promises. I can’t really remember, but I knew he mentioned Philippian's something something. Forgive me, I can't remember the chapters and verses.

I didn’t feel like crying but watching my mother sob broke my composure and I could feel my eyes watering. Aramide was sobbing uncontrollably, and I was glad Shola and a few other people were around her. Aramide had been with them for three years, and she was reeling, having seen the casket buried. We stayed moody hours after the funeral had ended, and I couldn’t help but contemplate all the changes death brought.

Later in the evening, my father and I talked about what he said yesterday. Though I had given it a little thought, considering all the people I’d miss back in Ondo. Agatha and Bukola would surely miss me too.
We had a long discussion about how it might be useful if I stayed with my Aunt at least for two weeks or more. I was really perfect for the task because I had nothing waiting for me back home. The only challenge was that I came to Ibadan with few clothes.
"You'll buy a few clothes to stay here for some weeks,” my father added. He seemed to be tired of seeing me doing nothing at home.

My father didn’t waste any time proposing the idea to my Aunt. The first thing she said was, “How about his school?” My father answered by telling her I was done with secondary school. My father took me aside and informed me that he would be depositing some funds to help me get a few clothes and other things I’d need. I was glad, considering I had only twelve thousand naira left in my Kuda account.

When I got back to the room, my mom, Shola, and Agatha were getting their things ready for the next day. Bidemi was the only one absent from the funeral. Her school was in session and she couldn’t come. Her absence was so noticeable because she would have talked and talked.

I spent the next couple of minutes thinking about what my stay in Ibadan would look like in absence of Agatha and Bukola. Now faced with Aramide the religious sister of mine.

Well, Biola was staying back too. She planned on spending a few days before returning to Lagos. Biola had always called me by my pet names that I wondered if she had a crush on me. She seemed to like how I treated her too, and who knows maybe she planned to stay back because I was asked to stay back with my Aunt. Or maybe it was just my weird imagination or something. My few days in Ibadan would surely tell.



To be continued...

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Thanks for the update, more wisdom

Weldone Frank
Sweet popcorn for you dear